


Impatient Patient

by dweetwise



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Boners, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Stubborn Caleb, Suggestive Themes, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweetwise/pseuds/dweetwise
Summary: Caleb is a pretty easy-going guy even in the Entity's realm, except when it comes to the Doctor. He can't stand the man, but is forced to accept his help when his leg starts acting up.
Relationships: Caleb Quinn/Herman Carter, Doctor/Deathslinger
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	Impatient Patient

**Author's Note:**

> got a prompt for this rarepair and ended up liking it <3

Caleb, in general, considered himself a pretty reasonable guy. When he got snatched into the realm and a spider-like godly being started ordering him to occasionally kill some kids running about, he just rolled with it. As he got to meet some of the people who shared his fate, the “killers”, he didn’t really care that some of them were grotesquely mutilated or just plain ol’ fucked up in the head. Well, with the exception of one.

There was this one guy who never failed to put him on edge; he called himself the Doctor, a mountain of a man that somehow constantly sparked with electricity. Upon seeing the weird, self-inflicted torture device that forced the man’s eyes and mouth wide open, drool spilling out while he giggled uncontrollably, Caleb had noped out real quick and did his best to avoid the maniac.

Then, his leg started acting up, and even though he tried to hide it, some of the others noticed.

“You should ask Herman,” Philip had suggested. “He might be a little… off, but he’s still a doctor.”

“I’d rather amputate the damn thing with a rusty spoon,” Caleb spat at the other’s idea.

* * *

Of course, word spread about his injury. Philip told Evan, who informed a concerned Susie, who blabbered to the rest of the Legion and now everyone knew because those brats never learned how to shut the fuck up and mind their own business.

And so here Caleb is, reaching for his gun while the Doctor struts around Glenvale uninvited like he owns the place. Caleb makes his presence known by cocking the rifle, and the intruder finally spots him outside the saloon.

“Did somebody call for a doctor?” the man has the nerve to tease him, wiggling his fingers. Caleb fires a warning shot into a nearby barrel, making the rotten wood splinter from the impact.

“Touch me an’ that’ll be yer noggin,” Caleb growls. He barely resists the urge to stab the man with his bayonet when the other merely giggles at the threat.

The doctor (”Herman”, Caleb reminds himself) is infuriatingly persistent in convincing Caleb to let the him take a look at the leg. Caleb is suspicious as hell, half expecting to be drugged as soon as he lets his guard down, and then dragged to the hospital and be cut open for some morbid human experimentation.

Finally Herman somewhat relents, telling him to just walk back and forth to show the movement of the leg. It sounds innocent enough, and Caleb is even allowed to hold his gun, so he strolls onto the main road and tries not to scream as his leg aches with every step.

“Your brace is no longer offering proper support,” Herman says. “It’s placing too much pressure on the heel, irritating the entire ischiadicus. Let me take it to the hospital for modification.”

“ _Hell_ no, I’ll do it meself!” Caleb protests. Herman sighs in annoyance.

“Even if you _did_ possess the equipment, do you know the measurements? Without the medical knowledge, you’ll only end up making it worse.”

“I was the one who made it, an’ I’ll be the one to fix it,” Caleb spits, glaring at the stupid know-it-all. Herman’s eyebrows shoot up and he eyes the brace again, as if impressed.

“You should have consulted a doctor beforehand. That was moronic of you,” the man chastises instead. Caleb, again, has to resist the urge to embed a harpoon in his chest.

Caleb quickly learns that no matter how stubborn he tries to be, Herman is ten times more stubborn. Soon enough, they’re both in Caleb’s workshop, where he’s working on the brace while Herman hovers over him and offers unwanted advice.

“You could’a just drawn a fuckin’ picture,” Caleb spits and smacks Herman’s face away when the other leans in to inspect a joint, rudely interrupting his workflow.

“Try to loosen that bolt, you want it to bend more easily,” Herman says.

“I know what I’m doin’,” Caleb says with a glare. And if he _does_ add some oil to the bolt when Herman turns his back, nobody will know.

* * *

After a couple of days of Caleb working like crazy and Herman doing jack shit (”Supervising”, the other corrects), it’s finally time to try out the modified brace. Herman insists on putting the damn thing on Caleb like it’s a slipper and he’s a fucking princess, to “make sure it’s aligned properly” or some shit.

When the last clasp is secured in place, Herman lifts the now supported leg and starts moving it around and bending the knee with methodical precision. It’s strange, seeing the annoying man so focused on his work (and blissfully quiet, for once). Why the other has been so hell bent on helping him, Caleb will never understand. This is the first time he’s allowed the doctor to touch him, and he’s surprised by how gentle the grip on his leg is considering the killer’s bulky frame and the strength he’s no doubt capable of. Without the fuck awful headpiece, he’s also not terrible to look at…

It’s been so long since anyone has touched Caleb outside of the context of trying to kill him or Caleb trying to kill them, and he feels his treacherous dick start hardening in his pants.

“ _Fuck_ , ‘at stings!” Caleb lies when the doctor bends his knee at an angle, and the foot of his good leg flies out to meet Herman’s face.

Herman, after wiping the muddy boot print off his face, doesn’t appear bothered by his outburst. He seems satisfied by the movement of the brace and orders Caleb to walk back and forth in the saloon as well as up the stairs.

“Much better than before,” Herman hums, seemingly pleased. “You’ll most likely still feel the pain for a week or two while the muscles adjust to the added support.”

“Great,” Caleb drawls, still pissed off from the embarrassing moment earlier. When Herman isn’t turning to leave, he adds an annoyed. “Now piss off!”

* * *

Caleb is content with never having to see the other’s face again and starts avoiding him like the plague (no offense to Adiris). Whatever it was that made him _enjoy_ the doctor’s touch will surely go away on its own as long as he avoids the problem.

Herman, however, has different ideas.

He noticed how Caleb became putty in his hands, if only for a second, before lashing out at him in embarrassment. Herman has made up his mind and wants to push further.

So he keeps pestering Caleb with almost daily visits disguised as check-ups. The cowboy always pretends to be annoyed, but tolerates his presence and is even responsive to discussion as long as Herman isn’t wearing his headpiece.

To Herman’s disappointment and shame, the gunslinger’s leg isn’t adjusting as well as he’d hoped. When Caleb finally lets him examine the leg again, Herman can feel the muscles are rigid under his touch.

“Should’a known,” Caleb snarks, more annoyed than usual from having to deal with the prolonged pain.

“Some treatment might help to loosen the muscle,” Herman suggests. When Caleb raises a suspicious eyebrow, he holds up a hand and lets a couple sparks dance across his fingers.

“No _fuckin’_ way!” Caleb, predictably, protests.

“The other option is to give you a massage,” Herman informs. “Which would you prefer?”

And that’s how they end up in Caleb’s room in the saloon, with the cowboy laying stiffly on the bed and giving Herman constant reminders of how much he hates this, discarded leg brace laying by the foot of the bed.

Herman rolls his eyes and tell the gunslinger to shut up and try to relax. He hikes up the trouser cuff covering the troublesome leg while Caleb grumbles in annoyance.

Herman sends a couple of weak shocks along the skin to test the reaction. Caleb flinches, but doesn’t protest, so Herman grabs the leg more firmly, directing shocks deeper into the flesh. Caleb’s breath hitches, most likely from slight pain, but, again, he’s not ordering him to stop.

Herman keeps at it, changing the angle and trying to get the muscles to loosen up. He pays special attention to the tendons surrounding the knee that Caleb is always complaining about. He’s so focused on his work, one hand splayed over a thigh while the other has grabbed an ankle, electricity pulsing back and forth between his hands, that Caleb’s command catches him off guard;

“Do the other one.”

Herman turns to look up at the cowboy, smug smirk tugging at his lips—when the teasing comment dies on his tongue.

Caleb looks _wrecked_. He’s panting softly, an arm thrown over his flushed face to hide a blissed out expression. There’s also a very noticeable outline of an erection straining against his pants.

Herman’s smirk is back in no time as he gets to work on the other leg, last dregs of medical professionalism thrown out the window as he lets his hands wander freely.

The next trial, Caleb’s walk is still stiff even though his leg now moves properly, and the satisfied grin never leaves his face.

* * *

A few days later, Caleb surprises Herman by visiting the hospital, his step much lighter than before.

“Leg’s feelin’ a lot better now,” Caleb drawls.

“Good to know,” Herman says. “We should probably keep up the regular treatment, just in case. Since the ligaments—”

“Bend over,” Caleb interrupts.

“… I beg your pardon?”

“My leg’s good an’ I wanna fuck. So bend over,” Caleb offers in explanation. “Wha’, you thought just ‘cause you had my arse once I’m always gonna bottom?”

Herman notices there’s a new type of cocky confidence radiating from the other, a lazy grin spreading across the gunslinger’s face. He seems a lot more relaxed, now that the persistent pain is gone.

“… Alright,” Herman hears himself agree. It’s only to observe how the leg performs under repetitive strain, he tries to tell himself as he eagerly starts unbuttoning his pants.


End file.
